


To the Victor

by ohmytheon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Horseback Riding, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 22:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: Gendry doesn't much enjoy riding horses, but when Arya asks him to race her, it's not like he can say no.





	To the Victor

**Author's Note:**

> I don't plan on giving any backstory as to how they both came to be at Winterfell. Just let me live this fantasy. It's almost domestic.

It wasn’t that Gendry had never ridden a horse before. He’d ridden loads ever since leaving King’s Landing. Even rode one while he still lived there working under Tobho Mott, although it had been a terrible experience and he’d avoided it after that. Going on the run with Arya had forced him to ride one. He knew how to shoe them more than ride them, but there had been no point in arguing with her over it and he’d gotten used to it in time. Probably because he’d been bigger and the horse easier to handle.

He had learned to become more comfortable with horses after joining the Brotherhood Without Banners, though he still preferred to stay on the ground. A bit hard to travel about the Riverlands without being on a horse. It made for slow going and they couldn’t afford that. After he’d put down roots, there had been no sense in riding one and the inn didn’t keep them. In the back of his mind, there was some sort of relief in that.

To be honest, he didn’t like riding horses. He’d done it more than any other Flea Bottom orphan could ever imagine, but he still wasn’t great at it. Something about it was just awkward to him. He never had free use of his hands, which he really didn’t like. It made him feel vulnerable despite the speed.

Arya knew all of this, of course. She had to know. He didn’t know how, seeing as they’d never really talked about riding horses, but there was no doubt in his mind when that proud smirk crossed her face. She’d waited until he was done with his duties in the Winterfell forge and then asked him if he would accompany her on a ride. As a Lady of Winterfell, she was not allowed alone outside of the castle. A stupid rule, seeing as how they both knew she could kill a man just as easily as him, if not better, but she was being on her best behavior.

Which meant that she was up to something. She had grown in a lot of ways since she had been taken by the Hound all those years ago. A lot sneakier. She wasn’t a young girl on the run any longer.

“Surely there is someone else that you’d like to join you,” Gendry pointed out. He liked spending time with her, which was exactly the problem. She kept popping in on him like it was normal. He could handle that, except she made no attempt at staying formal with him. She was apparently on her best behavior except for him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he didn’t enjoy it so much. She was going to get the both of them in trouble. In fact, she seemed intent on it.

A part of him really didn’t mind.

Shaking her head, Arya replied, “Everyone else is busy.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, everyone.” Her grin broadened, wolfish now, like she might devour him. She was deadlier now too. The other men might look over her, but there was a grace in her steps that made him pause. A sharp look in her eyes that he’d seen only a handful of times before. He had no doubt that she could do anything to him before he could fight back. “I’m tired of being cooped up.”

He really didn’t know why he bothered arguing with her, not when he almost always gave up in the end. Perhaps fighting with her was half the fun. Both of them knew that he was more than likely to agree with her, but the chase was still entertaining. It was like a game. Sometimes, he even won or turned her down and she would get so worked up that the next time she was brimming with a sort of fury that reminded him of the fire in the forge.

She seemed to have known that he would agree since two horses were brought up shortly after he layered up properly. She had already been ready and waited patiently at the door for him. It was bloody cold in the North, even worse since winter was here. Not even in its prime apparently. Gods knew what it would feel like when it finally was. There would be no horseback riding then. Maybe it would be good to get out now and then while they still could. He didn’t mind being in one place for a while, but he knew Arya’s spirit. She liked to roam.

(And he’d follow her when she did. But just for now, he liked it here, her being in one spot, her being home like she’d wanted to go all those years ago. It wasn’t as grand as it used to be, but it was something.)

Getting on the horse was an awkward affair. They were larger here in the North than the ones he was used to in the South and the Riverlands, breed to be hardier for the harsh snows no doubt. He tried not to be clumsy, his own height and weight being the only saving grace. Despite being quite smaller than him, Arya was able to climb onto her horse with the grace of a dancer. She smiled at him, not in a mocking way but still amused, as he pulled himself up on his. It took him a second to gain his balance and find a moderately comfortable spot on the saddle. She looked as if she belonged on a horse, her body relaxed as she gently pet its neck.

“How about a race?” she asked.

Gendry groaned. “Is it really a race if it’s against me?”

“I’ll give you a head start,” Arya replied.

“Then it’ll just be humiliating when you win,” Gendry grumbled under his breath, but he nodded his head in agreement anyways. He was a lot better on a horse these days than he had been and, even though they were larger than what he was used to, he was more comfortable with these ones – but that still didn’t mean he would have a chance in winning.

Still, when he edged his horse to start running, Gendry tried his best. He knew that he would lose, but he wasn’t about to give up completely without a fight. The horse he was riding seemed determined to win as well – or maybe determined to throw him off, seeing as how fast it was going. Gendry had to grip onto the reins tightly and squeeze his legs against the horse to keep from falling off. It was a bumpy ride, not pretty at all, but he’d seen worse.

Despite his best attempt though, it wasn’t long before Arya caught up with him, leading her horse like it was a second extension of herself. Whereas it jumped over a fallen tree and landed smoothly with her barely moving, Gendy felt himself slam down hard against the saddle and almost toppled over sideways around a curve. All he could hear was the thumping of the horses’ hooves and Arya’s bright laughter ahead of him. She sounded so…happy. Carefree even.

It was a laugh that he’d do anything for. He couldn’t be mad about losing the race, not when he heard that.

Gendry slowed his horse to an easy trot by the time he made it to the little frozen pond Arya had stopped her horse. That grin was on her face again, her cheeks and nose red from the biting cold of the wind. She didn’t seem to notice it. Gods, he missed the forge already.

“I win,” Arya proclaimed proudly.

“You always win,” Gendry pointed out. She was made to ride horses. She made it look so easy, even beautiful.

“And yet I never get a prize.”

Arya stared at him a beat too long for his comfort. He turned his horse from her and got off, stumbling a bit when he hit the ground thanks to his foot getting caught. She followed suit, without the stumbling bit, and moved to the front of her horse to feed it a handful of seeds. When she was done, she looked down at the frozen water. By nightfall, it would probably be covered in snow and they would have to be more careful with their horses.

“Well?” Arya prompted.

“Well what?”

“Where’s my prize?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Gendry looked around at the frozen land that surrounded them. There was no one nearby except for their horses. They were completely alone. He tried not to think about that too hard. They were alone a lot more often than was appropriate, though no one made any direct comments on it. Might have been a few sideways looks, but Arya never seemed to notice them. He knew she did though. Nothing went past her. She was ignoring them. Try as he might, he couldn’t and he felt shame flood him all over again.

“Nothing here but snow, m’fraid.” Gendry shrugged. “I can make you something in the forge when we get back, if you’d like.”

Arya focused entirely on him, to the point that it made him want to squirm in his boots. He was cold as hell, but that look in her eyes made his blood boil. “You’re here.”

“Obviously.” He did not like where this was going precisely because of how much he liked it. Maybe he was reading into it. Maybe it was all in his head, the fantasies of some bastard born mind.

“A kiss then?” Arya never looked away from his face. There was an intensity about her that always drew him in and yet–

Yes, there. Her cheeks weren’t just red from the cold. It was from  _embarrassment_. The realization struck him so suddenly that it made him blink and then, even though it was the worst timing, he actually started to laugh. He knew that he should stop – he knew that he looked like an ass – but he couldn’t help it. She had asked him to kiss her and was embarrassed by it.  _Him_.

An affronted look crossed Arya’s face and she scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Gendry replied in between laughs.

Arya smacked him on the arm, but he made no move to leap out of her way. “Stop laughing at me!”

Biting his lip to stop himself, Gendry managed to say, “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then, what–? Just–” Arya pressed her lips together in an angry line. The scowl hadn’t left her face. She still looked beautiful. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

“Are you certain that’s what you want?” Gendry asked. He shouldn’t have even entertained her. He should tell her no. He should remind her that it isn’t proper. There were a lot of things that he should do and he ignored all of them. The greedy part of him that he always ignored was loud and demanding right now. He always set it aside for others and for the way things were. As a bastard, even one of a dead king, he knew better than to ask for much, if anything.

But he wanted this. He wanted her and he wanted her to want him. Losing at a horse race was worth it a million times over.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Arya told him stubbornly. “And a win demands some sort of prize. It only seems fair.”

Gendry grinned, unable to stop. “Fair is fair.”

He stepped closer to her, never looking away from her face. She kept her eyes on him as well, stormy grey like the sky before it snowed. He waited a beat once their bodies were only an inch apart, just in case she changed her mind, but there was a steely determination on her face that would’ve looked out of place in a situation like this on anyone but her. When he placed a finger underneath her chin, that look shattered and he felt her gasp more than heard it. He bent down just as she stood on her tip toes and their lips met.

It wasn’t Gendry’s first kiss. He’d had loads of kisses before. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He didn’t scurry away from a woman’s flirtatious touch or blush at the looks they tossed his way. He’d even bedded a few, if he was being honest, although he’d been as careful as possible not to make a bastard. He couldn’t do that. He knew how to kiss a woman and he knew how to be kissed.

But this… This was different. This was Arya. He felt a fire underneath this kiss that he’d never felt before, one that built up inside of his chest and somehow felt as if it went into her. It was almost too much. It was just a kiss and yet the urge to deepen it was too strong to be ignored. Only when she practically whimpered against him, some keening noise filled with want, did he snap back into reality and pull away from her.

Her face was flushed and he knew that his was as well. He could feel how hot it was, almost surprised that steam wasn’t coming off of him in waves. His many layers felt like too much.

Still, he managed to control himself, reigning it all in, and gave her a bow. “I hope you’re satisfied with your prize.” How was he supposed to be proper after that? All he could think about was kissing her again. The way her lips felt against his, the promise of her body underneath her clothes, the strong grip of her hand around his arm.

“I’m…” A careful mask fell over Arya’s face. “I’m satisfied.”

It was a good mask, but she turned away too quickly and pulled herself back up onto her horse too stiffly. And if he noticed the way she touched her lips as they slowly made their way back to Winterfell, well, he said nothing. Gendry was a gentleman after all.


End file.
